Echoes
by Clez
Summary: What would it all be like if the ending of 'The Changeling' had been different? Is life really what we imagine it to be?
1. Part 1

The grave seemed to stare back up at him somehow, as if declaring a hollow victory. The grey stone was lifeless, the words etched into it providing no real use besides telling others that another human being had died. Bunches of flowers resided at the foot of the grave, fluttering slightly in the mid-afternoon breeze. The newly disturbed earth had been packed down tight, and the figure stood to the side of it slightly, his long black coat blowing about his legs like a shroud of misery. A single tear fell to the ground below.  
  
He had failed. After all he had been through, he had let this happen... let his dear stepfather die. The man had given him so much in his life, and after all of that, his adopted son had failed in his one attempt to save him.  
  
Bray had meant everything to him. The whole world had mattered less than this old man's life. The kidney had been rejected... he remembered Bray telling him, and how everything had seemed to crash down around him as a result.  
  
His loving wife Shana had tried desperately to comfort him through this difficult time, only to be turned down in her efforts. He had been unresponsive to her attempts, and she had taken that as a sign to leave him alone to mourn, and deal with the loss in his own time.  
  
The others at the station had all attended the funeral, which had been over for nearly a whole hour now. O'Neill and Carter had stayed behind for a while trying to persuade him to attend the wake. He had not said a word, so they had left without him, Probie and all.  
  
The young fireman had just looked at him in that certain way that told him he was there when the large man wanted him, and that he could talk whenever he needed to. He had nodded his thanks, and dismissed him silently.  
  
T was less than bothered when rain started to fall gently all around him, rolling down his face, masking the tears that tumbled from his eyes. He began to feel the bite of the cold, and he wrapped his overcoat around him tighter, and ran a gloved hand over his bald head, whipping off the droplets of rain that had settled there, only to be replaced by more immediately.  
  
What are you doing? The question popped up in his troubled head before he could silence it. Bray would want you to be with the others... helping them like they've tried to help you. They feel the loss too, and it hurts them just as much.  
  
Staring at the name etched in to the bland stone, T sighed heavily. He turned reluctantly, and walked away from the graveside, footfalls heavy with remorse. He had reached his car before too long, and was climbing inside silently when a flash of lightning brightened the dark sky.  
  
T looked up at it as it streaked across the heavens, and then slammed the door to his vehicle. Feeling the engine roar into life when he turned the key, he pressed his foot down on the accelerator, and drove away.  
  
* * *  
  
All heads turned in his direction when he stepped through the door, dripping from head to toe, even though he had been sitting in a car for near on ten minutes. He looked a little bit of a mess standing there, at the doorway to his own house, his friends staring at him in surprise.  
  
Apparently, the wake had started without him, as he had wanted it to. He recognised all the faces, and let out a sigh. There was no escaping them now. Why had he decided to come home?  
  
A beautiful woman strode up to him, and stood looking up at him below the steps leading up to the doorway.  
  
"T," she said quietly, glancing over her shoulder briefly, and then turning her gaze back on him lovingly, "come inside and close the door."  
  
He took one step, and swung the door gently behind him, hearing it close with a click.  
  
One by one, people looked away, turning back to their conversations or musings. A fire roared in the wall, the logs burning welcomingly to provide warmth and a gentle glow in the large living room.  
  
T stepped down into the sunken room, and looked into the eyes of his wife.  
  
She smiled sorrowfully, and touched his face softly, her fingers warm. "I wondered where you were. I thought you weren't coming back."  
  
"No," he replied, voice equally quiet, fighting to stay below the soft music that played elegantly in the room, "I just had some thinking to do."  
  
She nodded in understanding, and gave him a light kiss. "Go and change out of those wet clothes," she advised, stripping his overcoat from his large frame. "And then you can greet your guests. I know it's hard, but they're here to help you, my love."  
  
Silently, T moved to the staircase that led up to the second level in the large house, and climbed without looking back.  
  
He was soon in his bedroom, changing out of his soaked clothing, and into a dry set Shana had set out for him. He was pulling on the tight shirt when his door opened, and a figure entered.  
  
"Hey, how ya' doing?"  
  
T looked into the sincere gaze of Fire Chief Jack O'Neill, beer in hand. From the looks of it, he hadn't even sampled the alcohol, and it seemed he didn't intend to. It was just for show.  
  
With a lazy exhalation, T sat himself heavily on the edge of the king- size bed, and responded, "Not so good."  
  
O'Neill closed the door slowly, and said, "I know. I thought as much. That's why I'm here." He paused, taking in the man sitting before him. "There are a lot of people down there who expect you to be strong, and I know from experience that that's not as easy as it looks."  
  
T locked gazes with the Chief, and frowned. "Well, I don't know what I'm gonna do. I don't think I can face all those people."  
  
"Sure you can," O'Neill insisted, "you're the strongest person I know, T. You know that as well. Hell, you scare me sometimes with the things you can bear. I know this is different, but you still have to put on the brave face, and go down there eventually... sooner rather than later."  
  
After a moment of silence, O'Neill quietly added, "This is how Bray would have wanted it."  
  
T stood from the bed, O'Neill's words fresh in his mind, and walked over to his friend. He laid a hand on his shoulder, and forced a smile of gratitude.  
  
With a nod, O'Neill opened the door, letting the taller man out, and following after him.  
  
Descending the stairs with O'Neill in tow, T watched as all eyes turned to regard him, smiles of friendship and understanding waiting for him. Finishing his climb into the living room he started to welcome people the best way he knew how... with a firm handshake and a smile.  
  
One of the last figures he came across was Captain Samantha Carter, and she reached out her arms to embrace him, something he moved into willingly, feeling her arms close about him, as he wrapped his own around her in response.  
  
"We all miss him, T," she whispered into his ear, and he nodded softly in response.  
  
He pulled out slowly, and smiled. "Thanks for your support, Sam."  
  
"Anytime."  
  
* * *  
  
The wake continued pretty much as any normal wake should, and people gradually started to give their last respects to Bray in front of all present, standing before them at the head of the living room whilst the others seated themselves wherever they could.  
  
Before long, it appeared that all but T had taken their turn, and Shana looked to him lovingly, giving him a smile, and stroking a hand down his arm gently in encouragement.  
  
Clearing his throat, T stood from the couch, and moved to the head of the room, gathering all attention immediately.  
  
"Bray took me in when I was young," he began, not knowing what to do with his hands, and resorting to shoving them into his pockets, "and raised me as his own. It was then that I realised I wanted to be just like him, and so, I joined the fire brigade. Bray trained me to save others for years, and had always raised me to believe that all life is precious... no matter what. You go in there, you risk your own ass, and you get the job done... that was his principle. And I've stuck to that belief all my life."  
  
He paused, taking in the people in the room, who listened intently.  
  
"And not so long ago, Bray fell ill. It terrified me to think that I might lose the man who had become my father, the man who had raised me in such a way that my whole way of life changed drastically for the better." He paused again, letting out a sigh, before continuing, "And I did my best to try and help. But even after the transplant, Bray still died. There was nothing any of us could do about that... I realise that now."  
  
Thinking for a moment, T furrowed his brow. "Not so long ago, whilst he was in the hospital, Bray told me he was ready to die... and that he wasn't afraid. He said... he said that in trying to keep him alive, we might be keeping him from a better place."  
  
He raised his voice to finish his speech, "And I hope Bray has found the peace he was looking for all these years."  
  
T took a glass from the mantle behind him, and held it aloft. "To Bray." 


	2. Part 2

The wake ended at about midnight, and by that time, people had already started to filter out of the house, saying their farewells. T was grateful it was over. He had had just about enough of their sympathy for one night... that on top of the fact that he was on call at nine the next morning made it all too much to handle.  
  
Shana was at hand to help clear up, even though she had tried once to tell T that she would do it tomorrow when he was at work at the station. He would have none of it, and had insisted he get it done now. After that, she had grabbed a garbage sack and given him a hand; the two working in almost complete silence.  
  
The events of the night ran constantly through T's busy mind, and he tried more than once to push them down out of the way. He failed in every attempt, the faces and words of the guests sticking in his memory. Everyone's speech in memory of Bray had been touching and heartfelt, and that fact alone made it all worthwhile. At least Bray had had good friends.  
  
The cleaning took about two hours, and when the clock chimed two, T decided it was time to retire to bed before he lost too much sleep to be useful the next day... well, later this morning.  
  
Shana followed wordlessly up the stairs, and the two climbed under the covers together, too tired to change.  
  
Within moments, the two were asleep in each other's arms.  
  
* * *  
  
The sun rose bright and early the next morning, and the songbirds did their job of waking T at the crack of dawn. Six o'clock was sometimes a cruel hour to wake at, the first rays of the sun still beaming through the crack in the curtains and assaulting the just-opened eyes. The warmth was the only welcome thing, and T sat at the edge of the bed for a while, letting it seep into him and wake him properly.  
  
There's only one thing that'll get that done, he thought with a smile, glancing down at Shana as she slept soundly. Rising from the mattress, he grabbed his bathrobe, donned it, and headed off to take a morning shower.  
  
It didn't take him long to wash and freshen up ready for a hard day's work at the fire station. About ten minutes, and he was out of the shower once again, his robe wrapped around him once more, and a towel around his neck.  
  
Heading down the stairs, he heard the familiar sound of the morning paper hitting his front door.  
  
"I'll catch him in the act one of these days," T mumbled, unlocking the door, and retrieving the paper, kicking the door closed once again with his foot.  
  
He crossed into the kitchen, paper in his hands, flicking through the pages, humming to himself. He turned on the percolator, and set the paper down on the worktop, skimming through a news story about a shooting in the area.  
  
Shaking his head with a sigh, T retrieved a mug from the cabinet above his head, and then turned to the fridge and fetched the milk.  
  
"You still look tired, my love," came the voice of Shana behind him, making T jump slightly.  
  
He looked over his shoulder silently, and smiled, closing the paper, having had enough with the depressing stories held within.  
  
Shana came up to wrap her arms around him, and he felt her content sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder.  
  
"You know I can't sleep later than this," T replied quietly, and poured himself and Shana some coffee, adding milk to both, and a little sugar to hers. He turned, handing her a mug.  
  
She held it in both hands, sipping it now and then, and moved into the living room, walking down the steps gracefully, and seating herself on one of the two couches.  
  
T followed, tossing the damp towel into the laundry basket, and propped himself on the arm to one of the chairs. He grabbed the remote, and switched on the television.  
  
He handed it to Shana, watching as she turned from the news to an early morning cartoon.  
  
T smiled, and kissed the top of her head. She never did like to hear about all the terrible things that the human race was resorting to today in the modern world. He supposed she would much rather immerse herself in humorous cartoons and midday soaps.  
  
Looking at the clock on the wall, and sipping some more of his coffee, he saw it was nearing half-seven. Setting down his mug, he headed back up the stairs to dress himself.  
  
* * *  
  
He had arrived at the fire station at about a quarter to nine, after sitting in silence with Shana for a further half an hour after dressing in his appropriate gear, and then set off in his car.  
  
There were already a lot of people here. Nothing unusual about that, T knew. People often stayed all night... well, they had to. T often had to himself. Fires didn't stop at night. Emergencies weren't put on hold simply because the firemen wanted to go home at night. People had to stay behind just in case. And in his books, 'just in case' happened all too often in the good old US of A.  
  
Captain Samantha Carter was due to arrive any minute.  
  
Good, T thought. He liked to talk with the woman, second in command around this place. The only woman, and she was further up the ranks than he was himself. The thought made him smile.  
  
Fire Chief Jack O'Neill was already here, up in his office, working away at some pesky paperwork, and he had been up there since T had arrived. The only sign of him actually being here was his large four-by-four parked outside... that, and the fact that the light in his office was on.  
  
The appearance of a figure at his side made him turn his head.  
  
"Hey, Probie."  
  
The look on the young fireman's face made T frown. He looked almost pleading.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled, and then rephrased his greeting, "morning, Jonas."  
  
There was a slight smile on his face then that brightened T somewhat. Well, he had made one person happy already. That was a good start, considering it was only nine in the morning.  
  
Jonas decided tentatively to sit beside T, a mug of coffee in his hand. He didn't speak for a while, but when he did, his tone was that of concerned curiousity, "How are you?"  
  
T looked him in the eye, and saw genuine worry there. This guy honestly cared. He didn't even really know T, and he was eager to find out if he was okay or not.  
  
"I'm good, thanks." T stared down at the table for a moment, before adding, "So, day of the big test. Nervous?"  
  
Jonas smiled, and tilted his head. "Sort of." Then he laughed. "Okay, I'm lying. I'm terrified."  
  
T grinned. "Hey, you haven't got a thing to worry about, man. I've seen your work. You're gonna make a great fireman."  
  
Jonas' smile faded slightly, and he looked to T, and said, "Thanks."  
  
"I hope there's enough coffee left for me, Probie," came the loud voice of a woman strolling into the open door of the fire station, her blue shirt crisp, fresh from the dryer. Her blonde hair was neat, and her blue eyes were inquisitive and filled with intelligence.  
  
Jonas looked up immediately, and replied just as quickly, "Sure is, Captain." With that, he moved off to get her a drink.  
  
Carter took the seat left unoccupied by the young fireman.  
  
T discreetly rolled his eyes.  
  
Not discreetly enough, he realised, as she asked, "What?"  
  
He turned his gaze upon her, and said seriously, "Do you always have to call him that?"  
  
Carter seemed a little taken aback. Clearly, his behaviour was a bit confusing to her... understandably. T himself usually laughed at her constant teasing of the probationary firemen. "Well, it's what he is. He doesn't mind."  
  
"Are you so sure?" T queried, his arms rested casually on the tabletop.  
  
She raised an eyebrow slightly. "What's wrong? I'm just trying to be funny. You normally laugh."  
  
"Well," T began, trying to take the edge off his voice, "you might wanna give the poor guy a break. It's their big test today. He's nervous as hell."  
  
"Hey, T, I was like them once," Carter informed him, leaning forward. "No one ever gave me a break. I was always the Probie."  
  
T hadn't intended to start an argument, but it was obviously destined this morning. "It doesn't mean you have to treat them that way. Just because you were... that's no reason."  
  
She sighed heavily, and leaned back in her chair, letting out a surprised laugh, single, quiet. She eyed him for a moment, before a mug of coffee was placed before her.  
  
T looked up at Jonas, who waited for a second, and then moved off silently.  
  
"See, that's exactly what I mean," T noted aloud, crossing his arms impatiently, and gesturing casually over one shoulder to where Jonas had joined the other younger firemen.  
  
"Now what?"  
  
"You didn't even say thank you," he muttered.  
  
Luckily, before the discussion could continue, and become obviously more heated, Chief O'Neill landed in the chair to the other side of T, and said, "Morning, guys. Hope you're all ready for some tough work today. I've got these tests on my hands, so Carter; you're running the show. T, you're gonna float between the two. Go with whoever needs you more, okay?"  
  
"Sure thing," T replied, glad to get off the topic that he had been debating with Carter, who now seemed a little relieved herself to have had the opportunity to leave it be. Still, she looked a little annoyed to have been challenged in her ways.  
  
A smile crossed her face suddenly, and she said, "So, Chief, how's Sara?"  
  
O'Neill raised his eyebrows. "Hmm?"  
  
Carter laughed. "You know perfectly well what I mean."  
  
"Oh! Yeah, she's doing great. Doctor says it should only be a couple of weeks at most."  
  
"That's great," T added, smiling broadly. "Have any idea of what name you're gonna pick yet?"  
  
O'Neill let out a deep breath, and shook his head. "Not sure. The doctors told us they think it's a boy, but you can never be too sure," he laughed. Then, after a quiet moment, he said, "But I've sorta been thinking about... Charlie."  
  
T nodded slowly. "That's a good name."  
  
"I'm happy for you, Chief," Carter said honestly, and patted his hand. "I can't wait to see the little guy."  
  
"Me neither," O'Neill agreed. "I'm looking forward to playing ball with him, and taking him fishing... the sort of things my dad used to do when I was growing up, you know?"  
  
"Might have to wait a few years though," T quipped, and laughed at the look on O'Neill's face.  
  
Sara had found out seven months ago that she was pregnant, and it had been the best news at the station for a long time. After all his hard work and determination, O'Neill deserved some happiness, and what better way to get that than with a new child.  
  
"Right," O'Neill breathed, rising from the table, "I think it's about time we put this guys outta their misery, whadda ya' say?"  
  
Carter nodded, and threw a glance over her shoulder at the group of firemen at the back of the room, all looking a little nervous to say the least.  
  
"I'll give you a hand," T offered, and followed O'Neill. 


End file.
